


what did you expect

by Polyhexian



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Ending Timeline, Gen, POV Third Person, Post-Canon, Suicide, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: Cyclonus didn't ping Whirl until he'd been on Cybertron for two days. He'd had to find accomodations first, you see, and rest up from the trip. It wasn't a priority. Whirl, of course, could wait two more days, he'd waited two decades yet. Cyclonus's ping returned, unanswered. This was a frustrating development. Whirl must not be using this number as his personal frequency any longer and Cyclonus did not have his new one. He was going to have to track him down.
Relationships: Cyclonus & Whirl (Transformers), Cyclonus/Tailgate (Transformers)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36
Collections: AUs where whirl dies





	what did you expect

**Author's Note:**

> It's late and I'm sad and im writing sad oneshots again sorry

Cyclonus didn't ping Whirl until he'd been on Cybertron for two days. He'd had to find accomodations first, you see, and rest up from the trip. It wasn't a priority. Whirl, of course, could wait two more days, he'd waited two decades yet. Cyclonus's ping returned, unanswered. This was a frustrating development. Whirl must not be using this number as his personal frequency any longer and Cyclonus did not have his new one. He was going to have to track him down. 

So the third day, he and Tailgate explored Tetrahex at their leisure, the strange mirror version of it, mired by functionism and six million years but then brought back by two decades of reconstruction. It was a strange place to wander but not entirely unpleasant. Cyclonus enjoyed it, at least some, for what it was, and put out of his mind what it was not. 

On the fourth day he tracked down Swerve, the easiest of his old friends to find by far. 

"Whirl?" The bartender frowned, "No, not since you left. He wasn't the kind of person I really wanted to keep up with, you know? He never paid his tab."

Cyclonus understood. Whirl was a difficult mech, and he didn't make friends nearly as well as he did enemies. It only made sense. 

On the fifth day he spoke to Drift, but not about Whirl. Drift was busy, in mourning, and they spoke of Ratchet, and of memories, and of love. Cyclonus recalled how deeply he had grieved for the moment he had believed his Tailgate was dead, so many years ago now, and was glad for Whirl's comfort. He hoped he had offered some to Drift with their visit, and decided that the following day he would put even more effort into tracking down Whirl.

And so on the seventh day he was on Cybertron, Cyclonus began calling around. 

"Whirl?" asked Nautica, "No, I haven't heard from him."

"Not since the Lost Light," said Rodimus, "But I haven't seen much of anyone since the Lost Light."

"Was he at the party the last day?" Chromedome asked, "I wasn't really looking for him, I don't know if he made it." 

Cyclonus realized after a dozen calls that… _no one_ seemed to know where Whirl was. In fact, not since he and Tailgate had left had anyone seen him, or questioned that they hadn't seen him.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Brainstorm advised, "He's Whirl. He does what he wants."

What had Whirl wanted, though, Cyclonus wondered? A difficult question for a mech to answer. Cyclonus had not known him in years, had never known him especially well. (Once, decades ago, Whirl and Cyclonus had been alone, in the wake of the first Rewind's death, in the medibay, locked down to recharge slabs and ordered to stay there. Whirl had been swung around in his alt-mode like a club and was nursing a concussion, and he rambled, on and on like he didn't know where or when he was, and at one point he he had looked Cyclonus directly in the eye and said, brokenly, like a child, " _I want my hands back._ " Then he had rolled over and started wailing again, the sound devolving into laughter, and Cyclonus had turned away, ignoring his fit of delirium.)

On the fourteenth day, a week after his search for Whirl had truly begun and still with no leads, Cyclonus began to really worry. No former Lost Lighter could tell Cyclonus where he was, could confirm having seen him since that last day, had been confided any future plans. It was as if Whirl had simply stepped out of the frame of the world and ceased to exist. As if he had just vanished, and no one had been the wiser of it.

Day seventeen he got in contact with Windblade, on Earth, and had her check through census records. He had not gone there, either. 

Cyclonus could not fathom how Whirl had managed to get off world without being noticed, if he had in fact done so, or how he could be so well and truly missing on the planet for so long. 

On the twenty-fifth day he convinced Brainstorm to use his old viewing device to let him see history and follow Whirl as he had left the Lost Light at the end of the party. The two jets had followed the ghost of the helicopter, a flickering memory through the sky as it lilted and curved and eventually drifted over the sea of rust. Cyclonus nearly crashed in surprise when his old friend, at one point, simply cut his engine and dropped like a stone from the sky.

Whirl vanished into the waves without a splash, only a trace memory in a real world, and in the real world the sun was shining, the clouds light and full of birdsong, and Whirl had still not resurfaced. 

There would be no recovery efforts. There was no point. Too much time had passed for there to be anything left to recover. 

On the thirtieth day Cyclonus was on Cybertron, they held a funeral for Whirl. Well, _he_ held a funeral for Whirl. Tailgate came with him, of course, supportive, but no one else did. Cyclonus wondered if, perhaps, if he had washed up on shore two decades ago, if the proximity of time and acquaintanceship might have brought more of a crowd, or if Whirl had truly been as friendless as he always claimed to be. 

An empty grave, an empty spark, an empty friendship. An empty promise to see one another again. 

On the thirty-first day, Cyclonus and Tailgate left Cybertron again.


End file.
